Subtlety
by Floor-Ninja
Summary: Deckerd may not see the wounds, but they do. Post Episode 28.


**Author:** Ninja  
**Description:** _Deckerd may not see the wounds, but they do._  
**Timeline:** Post Episode 28  
**Characters:** Deckerd, Gunmax, Shadowmaru  
**Rating:** K+

* * *

Deckerd was in the middle of drafting a report when his internal communicator pinged.

His movements halted. The tips of his fingers hovered above an over-sized keyboard. He stared forward at nothing in particular. All his attention was drawn inward with his lips parting in confusion when it pinged again.

On any other occasion he would have answered immediately, leaped up, stiffened – done _something_, anything – but on any other occasion it would have been a special emergency. Special emergencies were one of the only times the Braves used their internal radios to contact one another instead of their badges. This... was not an emergency, Deckerd realized, puzzled, when he could detect no urgency in the request for contact. His orange optics dimmed; his arms, half-suspended over the desk, settled, and he pulled up the message still waiting on his acknowledgement.

**REQ:/ BP-601 GUNMAX. ACCEPT?**

Deckerd's puzzlement morphed from vague and fuzzy to sharp and laced with concern. _Gunmax?_ Why was Gunmax contacting him? As far as Deckerd was aware the other Brave was currently in the repair bay overseeing a retrofit for his bike partly because he was invested in said bike and partly because he enjoyed harassing Chief Toudou as the human worked. Unless something had gone awry there was no reason why Gunmax couldn't wait to talk to him in person later.

Suspicious, Deckerd hesitated, mentally scrutinizing the notification. Perhaps Gunmax was bored and looking to strike up a conversation. If that was the case, Deckerd...didn't _mind_, but he _really_ needed to finish this first -

Another ping, but this request had a tag associated with it. Deckerd opened it; his curiosity getting the better of him.

**REQ:/ BP-601 GUNMAX: I KNOW YOU SEE THIS. ACCEPT?**

Embarrassment trickled through Deckerd's systems. The line opened and Deckerd fought to mask his sheepishness when he transmitted, /This is Dekkado./

Gunmax's reply was immediate. /Yo, Patoka. Fall asleep at the desk again?/ The other mech's voice – half data, half audio – was a slow, mechanical drawl that betrayed nothing of his purpose. Deckerd cocked his head at the nickname. Gunmax hadn't called him that since...

/Of course not,/ he replied, remembering himself. /I'm working./

/Oh, really! I'm _shocked._/

/Do you need something?/ Deckerd pressed and tried his best to sound cordial and not at all annoyed. A wash of static that sounded a lot like amusement from Gunmax's end of the line informed him that his best was not quite good enough. /I was in the middle of something./

/Tell me, Dekkado. Have you gotten up at all?/

/What?/

/_**Come on!**_ Are you still sitting at that desk pecking away at that keyboard?/

/I – I'm working,/ Deckerd replied, remembering too late he'd said that already.

/Just what I'd expect the great leader of the Brave Police to say,/ Gunmax wheedled. Deckerd contemplated cutting the line. /You're not on shift. The sun is shining. Why are you still at that desk?/

/I like working./

Gunmax made a noise that sounded three parts pitying, one part horrified and one part disgusted. /What will we do with you, Dekkado? Am I going to have to drive you out of there myself?/

/I'm not getting on your bike again./

/You don't like my driving?/

/You ran a barrier!/

/Come on, admit it. It was fun./

Deckerd grimaced. /Well, looking back.../

/So you do./

/But at the time neither of us were enjoying ourselves. Really, Gunmax, I should finish this. Is there anything you needed?/ Deckerd didn't bother to hide his rising irritation.

/Uh-huh. Is the Build Team there?/

/No... Why?/

/I was going to ask if they could drag you out./

/You're out of luck./

A small buzz on the line signaled Gunmax was about to reply, but the tiny prickle of contact withdrew suddenly. For a number of seconds, each one ticked off by Deckerd's internal chronometer, the patrol car was alone in his own head. The silence seemed to stretch without end and with nothing to occupy his A.I. he found himself staring at the half-finished report in front of him once more. His fingers twitched and moved closer to the keys. He really should finish.

He pinged Gunmax instead, wondering why the other mech had gone silent mid-conversation. /Gunmax?/

There was a mumble across the line.

/...Gunmax?/

/Mmh./

/Gunmax! Did something happen?/

/Oi, oi,/ Gunmax grunted, still sounding distracted. /Persistent, aren't you?/

/Answer me./

/You get so demanding. How cute./ Gunmax's voice was smooth but clipped and Deckerd's previous suspicions blossomed once more.

/Who else are you talking to?/

/What makes you think I'm talking to someone else?/ Before Deckerd could reply Gunmax made a _tsk_ing sound. /Now, now, I've been unfair. I'll let you work./

/I – what?/ Confounded. Deckerd was truly confounded. /What have you got planned?/

/You're awfully on edge today. Maybe you're working too hard./

/Gunmax.../

/Ciao, **baby**./

The transmission cut. Incensed, Decked tried hailing Gunmax again but was confronted with a cascade of notices informing him that BP-601's relay had been switched offline and to try again later.

Deckerd stared at the monitor in front of him. The smooth alloy of his brow crinkled under the shadow cast by his helmet. "He hung up on me," he said to no one, torn between bafflement and hurt.

The monitor offered no consolation.

"Why did he hang up on me?"

The halfway finished report on the monitor offered no consolation, either.

After a few more moments of quiet contemplation Deckerd resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never know what Gunmax had wanted. Whatever it was, it could obviously wait. Deckerd's systems warmed from their idling state and he re-engaged his circuits to the task at hand – a nice, predictable, non-back-talking report. Just what he needed to unwind.

He tapped away at the keyboard and was lulled in by the rhythmic sound of popping plastic and the mechanical murmur of his own engine. With most of the Braves out on patrol the Decker Room was uncharacteristically quiet. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would start to miss the clatter of his comrades but he would endeavor to get as much work done before then as possible. It was his duty – that and no one else seemed to want to do it. It truly confounded Deckerd that there existed people who did not enjoy paperwork and that most of his team happened to fall under that umbrella, Duke and McCrane being the only exceptions. Deckerd could still remember the high, whirring wail Drillboy had laid on his audios the first time Deckerd had set a stack of papers on his desk.

Truly bizarre.

So enthralled was Deckerd in the practiced motion of his hands on the keys that he did not at first register the strange scuffling sound that echoed, suddenly, through the room. His obliviousness lasted no longer than a few more clicks of the keys before he stopped (mid-sentence, he realized, bothered by this for some reason) and swiveled in his chair.

Silence. Deckerd gave the room another glance-over, the protective casing that shielded the sensitive cabling of his neck stretching as he turned to look back over his shoulder.

"Hello?" he asked aloud, his voice a harmonic rumble in the silence that followed.

There was a clicking sound followed by a soft thud. Deckerd was halfway out of his chair before he had the presence of mind to look to the ceiling.

Two green optics pierced the shadows above him, framed by the edges of a missing ceiling tile. Deckerd blinked.

"Shadowmaru," he murmured, his lips pulling into a friendly smile. "Couldn't you use the door?"

The two green optics thinned when Shadowmaru mirrored the smile and quirked his head to one side. "Ah, Master, that is far too practical," he gently admonished. One of his hands snaked out of the gap in the ceiling to reveal the missing tile, which he let fall to the floor. What looked to be an incredibly constraining position appeared to have no effect on Shadowmaru as he tucked his frame inward and slithered out of the ceiling with one long, sinuous motion. His crimson-armored feet hit the ground beside Deckerd's desk without a sound.

Deckerd chuckled and moved to pick up the dropped ceiling tile but Shadowmaru beat him to it. "Ah, I see. What brings you here?" Deckerd inquired and rested one hand on the back of his chair. He glanced back at his computer and mentally resigned himself to the fact that it would no doubt be a few minutes before he could finish the sentence he'd been typing.

Shadowmaru spun the tile between two of his fingers in a playful motion, the finely articulated joints of his hands betraying his potential deadliness in even the simplest of gestures. The ninja's attention, however, was fixed on Deckerd, the smile still warm on his face.

"I was checking the perimeter. Such a sad thing to see you indoors, master. It's a bit stuffy in here."

"Is it?" Deckerd wondered. He hadn't noticed anything different about the Decker Room sans the fact that it was not filled with even more giant robots at the moment. Something prickled at his A.I.. "Wait – a perimeter check? Is there a case?"

The spinning stopped. The tile hung, suspended at a perfect ninety-degree angle, between the tips of Shadowmaru's digits. The ninja cocked his head back a fraction.

The prickling in Deckerd's A.I. intensified.

"No," Shadowmaru said. "Nothing like that." When the violet mech didn't proceed to explain his rather mysterious and delayed response Deckerd found himself torn between impatience and puzzlement. Shadowmaru's smile quirked higher, the bright reflection of his optics shifting, subtly, with his gaze. Deckerd felt that gaze on him; felt it travel along his armor in slow, thoughtful sweeps.

"I don't understand," Deckerd admitted. Shadowmaru finally let the tile drop and caught it with a flick of his hand. Deckerd turned to keep the shapeshifter in sight when Shadowmaru moved to set the tile beside the stack of files on the edge of Deckerd's desk. "Did the commissioner ask you?" Deckerd pressed. "What is going on?"

"Calm yourself, Dekkado," Shadowmaru laughed. He spun on his foot to face Deckerd head on, his arms crossing over his chest and his wings shifting higher. "We're only concerned about you."

Something in Deckerd's A.I. clicked. "Gunmax put you up to this."

Shadowmaru's laugh – gentle and rich – renewed itself. "He didn't put me up to anything. He only asked – and who's to say I wasn't already on my way here? I see you sitting here alone as well, master."

The other mech's laugh, while normally a welcome sound, set Deckerd's entire cortex on edge. He could feel every data stream spiking through his A.I. set upon the conversation with Gunmax earlier in an attempt to dissect it for any clues as to what Shadowmaru was here for and what Gunmax might have to do with it. So perplexed by this turn of events was he that Deckerd didn't even blink when Shadowmaru strode closer and placed his hand upon his shoulder, the weight of it nestling between his collar and striped pauldron.

"Not long ago you were an empty shell." The words were spoken softly, almost reverently, but as soon as Shadowmaru uttered them it felt like every drop of fuel in Deckerd's lines turned to ice. "We all saw it. He thinks you're pushing yourself too hard."

"Gunmax was the one most confident about my recovery," Deckerd managed and wondered why his mouth components felt so sluggish and tight. "And you." _Yuuta..._ Everything in him felt suddenly too tight, like all his wires were snagged and his pistons collapsed and his outer frame ten sizes too small. Then, as quickly as the sensation had overtaken him, it disappeared – overcome by Deckerd's rising resolve. "Paperwork isn't a strain. Why the concern?"

"Almost dying _is_ a strain, Dekkado. It's only been three days."

The sick feeling clawed once more at Deckerd's insides. His fuel tank roiled as shadows passed over his A.I. trailing sensory ghosts in their wake. Memories - dim and sharp and cold - flickered. He wondered if Shadowmaru could see the struggle pass over his face, quick as lightning and dark as thunder. The ninja's optics were locked on him and his hand was still on Deckerd's shoulder. The other Brave had made no move to take it away and so it remained resting there, still and deceptively weightless.

For one brief moment a part of Deckerd that was still young and immature wanted nothing more than to shove Shadowmaru's hand away. He imagined himself stalking off, back turned, rigid and resolute, informing the ninja that he was fine; he was the leader, that was all behind them and he felt better than ever and the door was that way, _please and thank you_.

But Deckerd didn't move. He met Shadowmaru's gaze and the part of him that was strong, that was truly _Brave_ resisted the urge to look away and deny the facts – that it _had_ only been three days since he had regained his memories and, by extension, his friends. Perhaps his very life.

If it had been anyone else the immaturity might have won out. But if anyone had a right to talk about death then Deckerd knew that someone was Shadowmaru. Even now, gazing back at the shapeshifter's tension-lined face, Deckerd was reminded of yet another mech; a mech with a similar face and a similar build. Someone who, at one point, had also been an empty shell... and who had _not _returned. The grave that had taken that mech down had almost taken Shadowmaru as well.

Gunmax, Deckerd realized, had been clever in teaming up with him. And though the blue mech was not exactly _happy_ with being singled out he still felt his admiration for the biker and the ninja surge and warm every node that breathed life into his A.I.. That they were concerned...

"Maybe you're right," he admitted at last. No; he was _certain_ Gunmax and Shadowmaru were right. It was just difficult to admit it aloud.

"Right that you don't need to be alone?" Some of the tension creasing the edges of Shadowmaru's mouth faded when he continued, "Or that you could use a small dose of sunshine?"

Deckerd's face eased into a small smile. It was hard to hold onto a dark mood in the presence of someone like Shadowmaru. The aura was contagious. "So you're going to force me outside after all."

"Outside?" Shadowmaru's right optic flickered in a wink. "Well, that would be more cheerful, wouldn't it?"

Deckerd's smile widened. "Gunmax seemed to think so."

"So do I." Shadowmaru held out his arm, elbow crooked, with a flourish. "Shall I escort you then?"

Deckerd glanced over at his desk; first to the half-finished sentence still dangling on the monitor, the stack of papers, and then to the ceiling tile. "Shouldn't you put that back first?" he wondered.

Shadowmaru grinned, his characteristic playfulness returning, and went to work retrieving the tile and fixing the ceiling. The ninja's wings seemed to vibrate with contentment and Deckerd wondered if Shadowmaru had expected more resistance from him. Considering the subject matter Deckerd couldn't blame him. Their conversation could have taken many worse paths.

He was glad it hadn't.

"_Yo!_" Something thudded against the Decker Room door. Deckerd recognized Gunmax's voice and turned, surprised by the sound and wondering why the biker didn't simply come in.

"Ah," Shadowmaru said once he had the tile back in place. "The door is locked. Shall we let him in, or leave him outside?"

"Keep talking," Gunmax drawled from beyond the door. "I can hear you."

"Or," Shadowmaru continued, winking once again at Deckerd (who was having a hard time keeping a straight face,) "perhaps he could use one of my entrances."

"I am _not_ using the doggie door," Gunmax groused. The words had a distinctive amused lilt that betrayed him.

Deckerd's engine rumbled with a poorly suppressed chuckle. Gunmax rapt his knuckles on the door one more time before Deckerd managed to unlock it. The door slid open revealing an empty hallway and a green and gold-accented mech with both hands hitched on his half-cocked hips.

"Did you fall asleep on the way to the door?" Gunmax teased. The optics behind his visor flashed.

"No," Deckerd answered. "And I wasn't sleeping at my desk, either."

"Our dear leader is just full of energy," Shadowmaru tittered, appearing behind Deckerd. The patrol car could feel the ninja's hand light on his shoulder again but this time Shadowmaru gave the metal a comforting squeeze. The sensors in the alloy sparked and Deckerd was keenly aware of the pressure as well as the intensity in which Gunmax was studying him.

"So," the biker said. His voice was level and his gaze unwavering from Deckerd's. "Changed your mind, then?"

"I didn't have much choice," Deckerd admitted.

The corner of Gunmax's mouth tilted upwards. "Good."

The shapeshifter behind him and the visored mech before him seemed to share a glance. Shadowmaru's hand released Deckerd's shoulder and Deckerd experienced an indescribable wash of emotion. They really were concerned.

It was a nice feeling.

"Gunbike is just outside," Gunmax said at last, shifting his hips with a smirk. "Hey, Shadowmaru. Why don't you ride in the sidecar? It's a good size for dogs, don't you think?" Deckerd couldn't think of anyone Gunmax felt more comfortable with than his deskmate, so the unnecessary needling came as no surprise.

"Wolf," Shadowmaru corrected automatically while flashing the smaller mech an indulgent smile. The trio moved from the doorway and down the hall toward the lobby that led outside. "And I have a better idea."

"And what's that?" asked Gunmax. Deckerd felt Shadowmaru's gaze land on him. His brow lifted.

"...To leave you behind!" There was a sharp _snap_ and a split second of flashing armor followed by a thunderous roar as Shadowmaru transformed into a jet and screamed down the hall. Gunmax yelped in indignation as he and Deckerd were forced to shield their faces from the rush of hyper-heated air left by the violet mech's thrusters.

"You just _wait_," Gunmax yelled after the jet and then whirled to face Deckerd. "Come on! Are you going to take that?"

Deckerd stared after Shadowmaru for a moment, his expression unreadable. He then looked to Gunmax and observed the way the biker's hands clenched. A split second decision was all it took.

"...I think," Deckerd began, "that he had the right idea."

"What do -" Gunmax jumped backwards at the whirling blur of blue and white as Deckerd transformed into his car alt and hit the gas, his engine revving before spinning after the rapidly cooling thread of air left in Shadowmaru's wake. For a split second Gunmax simply stood in place and stared after them.

"Hey! You... _Aghh_," Gunmax swore, sputtering, the sound of his feet slamming against the floor resounding through Deckerd's audials as the biker was forced to sprint after his companions. "Assholes! Just wait til I get to my bike!"

Deckerd laughed, aware that Gunmax must have transmitted the same sentiment to Shadowmaru when the ninja's own laughter bled over Deckerd's open comm system. And for the first time that day - perhaps since he had woken, knowing himself and who he was after that bitter taste of oblivion, he felt...weightless.

He opened a private transmission and sent Gunmax a ping. The double doors in front of him cycled open. Sunlight flared across his windshield. He opened a separate comm for Shadowmaru as the skyline blurred by overhead.

**COMPILING REQ:/ BP-110 DECKERD: THANK YOU.**

**REQUEST SENT.**

He didn't have to see behind him to know Gunmax smiled.


End file.
